


Got a Light?

by Oliolioxicodone



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Songfic, its real cute and tender and has some good banter, semi canon, yes this is based of rent's will you light my candle but eurydice doesnt do drugs and isnt a dancer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22856158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliolioxicodone/pseuds/Oliolioxicodone
Summary: Eurydice knocks on a door hoping for a match to light her candle, little does she know more sparks will ignite than just the match striking.
Relationships: Eurydice/Orpheus (Hadestown)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	Got a Light?

On the wall of the bar, the clock ticked into the midnight hours. Orpheus stood behind the counter, nimble fingers dipping into glasses drying and polishing the drinkware before returning them to the shelf they called home. After a bustling evening, the silence left a heavy feeling in the bar. While Orpheus was not afraid of the dark, he couldn’t ignore the eerie sensation lingering in the air, so he hummed a simple tune to occupy the space. Lost in his work, the poet didn’t hear the first set of soft knocks on the bar’s door. The second set of knocks, sharper and more demanding startled the poor boy, his hands desperately fumbling with the glass he was drying, trying to avoid a bigger mess. After making sure the glass was placed safely on the counter, he made his way to the door. Cracking open the door he was surprised to see a young girl, wrapped in a ratty overcoat staring up at him with wild eyes. 

Eurydice was not one to ask for favors. Favors meant owing someone back, which made it harder to pack her bags and move to another town when storm clouds rolled in. In spite of herself here she stood, frigid air transforming a want into a need, desperation taking over. Through the window she could see a light inside of the bar was still on, though the room was desolate and barren, chairs no longer filled with patrons but stacked on top of tables. Maybe someone was still inside, someone who would lend her a match. She would pay them back, someday. Clutching her candle in her right hand, she raised her left before pausing. Her hand was trembling. Swallowing her pride, Eurydice gently knocked on the door, praying someone would be inside and hear.

__

_ No one is going to hear that _ , a voice in the back of her head whispered. While she wanted to shoo it away, accept defeat and turn away, the voice persisted.  _ Knock like you mean it _ . Trying once more, her knuckles made contact with the wood grain of the door, the sound echoing off out into the empty street. From inside she could hear a slight commotion and a muffled, melodic voice. Someone was inside, someone had heard her. After a moment, the door creaked open. The light of the inside was harsh against the darkness of the night, forcing Eurydice to squint. When her eyes finally adjusted, a young boy peered out at her, confusion painted over his face.

“Did you forget something?” Orpheus asked softly, trying to make sense of the situation in front of him. Normally Eurydice praised herself as being articulate, one might even say poised, but in this moment her tongue felt as though it was tied in knots, heavy and foreign in her mouth. 

“Got a light?” she blurted out, pushing the candle she was holding outward towards him. A blush rising to her cheeks as she realized how demanding she probably sounded. Without a moment of hesitation, the poet patted himself down, front and back pockets of his trousers and apron, frowning with disappointment as he came up empty-handed.

“N-No. Well not on me,” he stuttered, staring at Eurydice. Her nose and cheeks were tinted red from the cold, the candle she held out to him shaking.

“You’re shivering,” Orpheus stated, unable to hide the concern in his voice. Eurydice raised an eyebrow as if to say, oh thank you for informing me, I hadn’t noticed. Shifting back, Orpheus held open the door. “Why don’t you come in, I’ll find a matchbox.”

Pride instantly swelled within her, her mind frantically hunting for any reason to turn him down, to walk away. She had already disrupted the evening of this kind, hazel-eyed boy, turning away now would be rude. “Thank you,” Eurydice said meekly, slipping past him and into the warmth of the bar.

Orpheus headed over to the bar, ducking down to file through the different drawers and cupboards. Mister Hermes had to have a matchbox somewhere in this establishment. Eurydice stayed by the door, perching like a bird on the windowsill, watching the moon glisten in the sky above. 

Eurydice knew she had never stepped into this bar before but something about the atmosphere felt familiar, homey even. As she sat her senses recorded the space around her, trying to take it all in. She trailed her fingertips along the worn wood grain, softened with time and patrons of the bar shuffling through. The faint smell of stale smoke and liquor, natural to any bar filled the air but there was something else too, something old like leatherbound books and mothballs. It was easy to imagine the place full of people, jovial as they danced and drank. Behind the bar, she watched his brunette head bob up and down in time to the sound of drawers opening and closing, cutting through the silence of the night. 

It took some searching but finally, Orpheus found a matchbox tucked behind a collection of receipts dating back to before he could remember. Mister Hermes was a stickler for records, always tracking the expenses of the bar with great care. Excited to share his discovery with the girl, he bounced up on the balls of his feet, a beaming smile plastered on his face. However, upon seeing her again, he stopped, smile fading into an expression of adoration. She looked stunning bathed in the moonlight. No longer were her features harsh and wild, but soft and fearful. Her hair gleamed like starlight, he had never seen anything like her before. Orpheus wanted to paint her into his memory, to recall every detail of this strange, shivering, somewhat demanding girl and all of her beauty. 

“Has anyone told you it is rude to stare?”

Her voice cut through the air, breaking Orpheus out of his fantasy. “Y-Your hair… in the moonlight,” he stuttered, embarrassment evident. He looked down, fidgeting nervously with the matchbox.

“The moonlight?” Eurydice asked scoffing slightly as she hopped down from her perch, sauntering over to the bar. At least he was honest, she thought to herself as she set the candle down on the countertop and leaned forward on her elbows. “Never mind, will you light my candle?”

Looking up from the wick of the candle she found the boy staring at her once again, not in the same gawking manner she was used to from most men, but like she was a puzzle he was trying to piece together.

“What? Can I help you?” Eurydice laughed, her eyebrows raised.

“N-No! No, it is nothing!” Orpheus blurted out, trying to cover for himself.

“You don’t look at someone like that when it’s nothing,” she shot back, not letting him off that easy.

“Your smile, it reminded me of someone,” Orpheus sighed, his words no louder than a whisper.

“I always remind people of someone, who was she?” Eurydice asked, her tone softening.

“She died, her name was Calliope.”

The air in the room was tense, Orpheus’ sadness undeniable. Already the situation made Eurydice uncomfortable, this new addition was not helping. “Sorry about your friend,” Eurydice replied, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

“Mother, actually. Here, let me light the candle,” the poet mumbled back, striking the match and connecting the flame to the wick. 

Desperation, to be anywhere but here with this sad boy and his sad eyes took over Eurydice as she reached out for the candle haphazardly. Her reckless behavior caused the tip of her middle finger to make contact with the hot wax collecting beneath the flame. 

“Ow!” Eurydice exclaimed, pulling her hand back into herself. Of course, her carelessness had caused the candle to be blown out. 

“Oh the wax, oh goodness are you okay?” Orpheus asked, eyes wide with concern. 

“It is just a little wax,” she sighed, picking the wax cap off her fingers. “I’ve had it dripped on me before. That time, I liked it,” she smirked wickedly, winking as his cheeks turned pink. Not giving him the chance to respond to her provocative comment Eurydice reached out and plucked the matchbox from Orpheus’ hand. 

There was only contact for a split second but the sensation of her heart skipping a beat as her skin met his was undeniable.  _ Stupid boy _ , she thought to herself as her fingers fumbled with a matchstick.  _ Stupid boy and his stupid soft smile, stupid sad dead mom, stupid sweet eyes. Stupid, stupid girl. You never should have knocked on this door. Just light the candle and go.  _

Her frustration with the situation manifested as matches breaking and burning out under her forceful grip as she struck them against the box. Orpheus watched quietly, a little in awe of what was playing out in front of him. Normally he would have never extended his hand out to her, gently coaxing the matchbox from her grip, but then again any chance of this interaction being normal went out and into the night the moment he opened the door. Wordlessly, he struck the match against the box, a flame ignited.

Eurydice’s eyes followed the flame, flickering, and dancing as it lit the wick of her candle. There was a brief silence, the whole world still as they watched the candle burn for a moment. While Orpheus’ focus was on the flame Eurydice glanced up at his face, watching as the light of the candle changed how the night appeared on his features.

Pointed nose, high cheekbones, even his mouth, always slightly turned up into a smile were angular, edges illuminated by the glow. This sharpness about his face was a great juxtaposition to his personality which she could only describe as simply kind. He had opened the door for her, went out of his way to help her. Why hadn’t he politely turned her away, shut the door and clicked the lock into place? 

Her stare lingered on his lips for a moment, soft and pink. Giving into fantasy for a moment she let herself imagine what they would feel like against her own. Would they be as warm and welcoming as the rest of him? She would never find out, boys like him didn’t kiss girls like her. Feral street girls who beg for matches don’t get kissed, only looks of pity from pretty boys like him. 

As her eyes continued upwards Eurydice was caught off guard as his hazel eyes connected with hers. She flinched back, blinking frantically and looking anywhere but back up at him. Shakily her hand blindly padded around the bartop until she felt her fingertips connect with the cool glass of the candle. 

“I, uh, I… Thank you,” She managed to say, fumbling over her words as her grip on the candle tightened. Eurydice took a step back, gently bumping into a bar stool as she made her way towards the door. “T-Thank you, for the light.”

Orpheus stayed where he stood, a little bewildered and amused by her sudden bashful nature. He wanted to say something, anything to reassure her, but his tongue lay heavy in his mouth. All he could do was watch as she turned to leave, watch as her hand reached towards the door and the strange, beautiful girl with the candle disappeared into the darkness. 

Just as her hand connected with the heavy metal door handle, Eurydice instinctively reached back to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her mind was on one track:  _ get out, get out, get out _ , but her subconscious informed her fingertips that the white feather she always clipped into her hair was absent. 

“Shit!” She mumbled to herself, turning on her heels to face the interior of the bar once more. 

Orpheus was instantly at her side, worry taking over his face. “What happened? Did you burn yourself?” He asked, looking at the candle which was burnt out again. Moving from the candle to her he noticed a fiery determination behind her eyes. 

“My feather. I must have dropped it. I had it when I came in, I know I did,” She spoke, words punctuated with irritation. Within an instant she had handed the candle off to Orpheus, shrugged off her backpack and coat, leaving them in a heap on the floor and dropped to the floor herself. Orpheus placed the candle safely on the counter before turning back to look at her crawling on her hands and knees. 

“Listen, I know I have a great ass, but can you please get down here and help me?” Eurydice asked, her head popping up and peering at him from over her shoulder. 

“I-I wasn’t, I mean you do have a nice-- I mean… I,” Orpheus stuttered, face flushing a deep scarlet as he met her on the ground. Clearing his throat he asked her what they were looking for, trying to be as helpful as he could. 

Rolling her eyes at his blunder Eurydice returned her attention to the floorboards. “A white feather, it will probably have a hairpin attached to it.” 

Orpheus nodded, acknowledging he understood her instructions. At first, they searched in silence, but Orpheus couldn’t stop the questions from bubbling over from his mind and spilling out of his mouth. “Why were you out in the night, looking for someone to light your candle?” 

Had anyone else asked Eurydice something so personal, tried to pry their way into her life and backstory with a crowbar in the form of a question she would have turned and walked away. But there was something about this boy, with all of his kindness towards her that made her feel riddled with guilt, an emotion she wasn’t familiar with, at the idea of brushing him off. She knew the moment she began to reply, his goodness for the pure sake of being good would transform into one made out of sorrow and sympathy for her. 

“I’m new to the area. I don’t have anywhere to go,” Eurydice explained, hardening her voice slightly. She wasn’t telling her story for pity points, she didn’t need anyone’s help, well with the exception of the need for matches. “It gets cold and dark, my matchbook got damp. I had no other option.” 

Orpheus stilled in his movements, stopping to listen and absorb each of her words. “Why are you all alone? You can’t be older than me, don’t you have a home?” 

Eurydice scoffed, shaking her head as she pulled back to look at him while sitting on her heels. “Some people just don’t have a home,” she offered as an explanation, not diving any deeper into the subject. “And I’m 21, I’m old enough. I’ve made it this far, despite it all. People, seasons - the harshness of the world hasn’t stopped me yet.” 

Orpheus nodded softly in response, eyes flicking from hers to the ground. “Oh now the cat’s got your tongue? After all those questions, you hear a tragic backstory and now you’re silent? What were you expecting?” She remarked, a laugh following her words. 

As Eurydice spoke, she crawled towards him, swaying her hips from side to side with exaggeration until their faces were only inches apart. Eyes wide and lips pouty, seduction radiated from her as she reached up and ran a finger from his cheek down to his jaw, tilting his head up so his eyes met hers. “I just wander around in the night knocking on the doors of unsuspecting naive boys asking them to light a poor girl’s candle so I can seduce them. What else is a girl supposed to do for fun?” 

Not missing a beat her voice deadpanned as she pulled away from him, “If I had a home, all complete with a mommy and daddy, hell even maybe a little brother or sister, I wouldn’t be here. I do what I need to survive.” 

Between the heat from her fingertip still lingering on his cheek and the picture she painted for him out of her words, Orpheus was stunned, and a little breathless. His whole life he had been praised for his way with words, the poetry that poured from his lips and pen, but in this moment he could only stare in silence. There were no words that could be said now, his heart filled with a longing, an aching to help her in whatever way he could. Surely she needed more than matches. 

Orpheus drummed his fingers against the floor, desperately attempting to string a sentence together, to say the right thing. _ I’m sorry, I understand, I want to help  _ \- none of the sentiments of sympathy and empathy running through his might felt capable of expressing the deep sorrow he felt in his heart, the overwhelming urge that overcame him to prevent her from having to spend another night out in the cold. He hardly knew this girl, everything about her was cloaked in mystery, he didn’t even know her name. 

As his thoughts continued to spiral his finger’s movements increased in pace, their once steady rhythm now erratic. Over and over his fingertips made contact with the cold floor, that was until they didn’t. His ring finger connected with something soft, the rapping noise of his finger connecting with wood muffled. Orpheus’ gaze shifted from his lap over his side, confirming the unfamiliar object he was now holding, was indeed what he thought it was. A soft white feather, delicate and fragile, everything she appeared not to be, rested in the palm of his hand. 

“I-I think this is yours,” Orpheus finally said, breaking the still silence in the bar as he reached out his open hand to Eurydice. It took Eurydice a moment to process what he was handing her, but the moment she recognized her feather, relief overcame her. 

“Thank you,” Eurydice murmured, her voice no longer dripping with lust but rather there was an element of apologetic demureness to her tone. Tentatively, almost as though she was unsure if what he was holding was truly real, she extended her hand out to him. In the act of curling her fingers protectively over the sacred item, Eurydice’s touch also grazed over his skin, feeling the roughness of well-developed calluses in the fleeting moments as she pulled back.

For a boy of such tenderness; kind eyes, gentle tone, warm smile, the harshness of his hands contradicted everything Eurydice had assumed about him. Attempting to shake the thought of learning more about this boy and the story behind his hands, Eurydice effortlessly clipped the feather back into her hair. What was the point of learning more about him, of yearning for him telling her stories of how his hands came to be in the condition that she traced the lines of and kissed the palms of when as soon as the bar door shut behind her he would forget about her. 

Orpheus watched as she pinned the feather back into place, his hand still outstretched in his lap. He was still at a loss of what else to say before he knew what was happening words were spilling from his mouth. “My name is Orpheus.” 

His words caught Eurydice by surprise, why was he introducing himself to her? Why was he putting a name to his face, a name that would circle around her mind for hours as she lay awake tonight, and for every night after? 

Eurydice never told anyone her name, she was always “girl”, “miss” if she was lucky, or some nights “sugar” or “baby” if it came to it. Her name felt foreign on her tongue, unfamiliar in her own voice to her own ears. He said his own name with such confidence, he was Orpheus, and he knew exactly who he was. But who was she? 

“I-I’m Eurydice,” she stuttered, her own name leaving her tongue-tied. He probably thought she was lying about her name, and she couldn’t blame him for having such a thought. After all, who stumbles over their own name? Those who come in the dark begging for matches rarely tell the truth, after all, who would believe her if she did? 

“Eurydice,” Orpheus repeated back to her, a small smile growing on his lips. “Your name, it sounds like a melody. Eurydice, Eurydice, Eurydice.” 

Unable to allow herself to revel in the beauty hearing him pronounce each syllable of her name, Eurydice just rolled her eyes at his comment. “Who talks like that? My name is a melody? What are you, some kind of poet?”

Orpheus’ eyes lit up at her response, nodding eagerly. “I also play the lyre,” he mused, pointing towards the stage at the opposite end of the room. 

“Oh, a liar and a player too? I wouldn’t have pegged you for one, but I suppose all men are the same. You meet one, you’ve met them all,” She quipped, pushing herself up from the ground and stepping towards the heap of her things. 

“Wait, no,” Orpheus said, scrambling to get up along with her. “I, I’m not like that, I promise.” 

“Come again?” Eurydice paused her coat half on. “You already admitted you fancy pretty words and are a liar, why should I trust your word, player?” 

“D-Don’t go!” Orpheus’ voice wavered. Quickly the boy cleared his throat, trying his hardest to come across as confident.

“Come home,” He paused, a blush blooming on his cheeks, “with me.”

There he stood, his face open and honest, his hand outstretched to her. In the darkness of the night, he shone like the sun. Eurydice couldn’t help but laugh, throwing her head back as the sound reverberated around the empty room. Shrugging on the other shoulder of her coat she stepped towards him, her backpack still on the ground. “You just told me you’re not like other men, that you’re not a player, and here you are asking me to come home with you?”

Her laughter filled the room with a light Orpheus had never known. It didn’t matter to him that she was laughing at him, he wanted to hear her laugh forever, to capture the sound and it’s beauty, to listen to it over and over again. “I-I don’t have a good answer to that,” Orpheus tried to laugh with her, the pink tint on his features how a vibrant scarlet.

Eurydice wanted to say yes, to reach out and take his hands, but she had seen how the world was, how the promises of men always came with a cost. She had always managed on her own, survived for better or for worst. Isolation was key to living to see another day, but some part of her longed to throw every lesson she had ever learned away to know the feeling of holding him. Could he truly be kind, without expectations or strings attached? Could he be different?

Swallowing hard, Eurydice’s eyes flickered between his hand to the door which was just in her peripheral vision. What would it be like, to feel the warmth of the sun against her, even in the darkest hours of the night? For the first time, since she couldn’t recall when, Eurydice felt unsure of herself. She knew fear, knew panic, but this was different. She was scared of having already fallen, in spite of herself, and everything she thought she knew.

Nervously, Eurydice went to step even closer towards Orpheus, her hand just slightly reaching towards his. Before she was able to gracefully give herself over to him, she tripped over her backpack, left forgotten on the bar floor. Stumbling, she crashed directly into Orpheus, palms pressed against his chest. His arms instantly wrapped securely around her back, holding Eurydice up. For only a split second, both felt as though they were holding the world in their arms.

“Is that a yes?” Orpheus chuckled, the sound vibrating out from his chest and into her hands. Eurydice desperately tried to collect herself, pulling her hands back and trying to stand up straight. The moment Orpheus’ hands were no longer on the small of her back she longed for the sensation. Even after such a blunder he still stood in front of her, arms, heart, and home still open to her.

“You’re sure?” Eurydice asked softly, bending down to pick up her bag. Anxiously she ran her fingers over the handle, the cool damp fabric a reminder of what fate would await her should she back into the night.

“I feel like I should be the one asking you that,” Orpheus responded, reaching his hand out for her once again. “Eurydice, come home with me.”

Without a word Eurydice placed her hand into his, a tiny smile gracing her lips. “Take me home with you.”

Orpheus lead her across the room to a small staircase leading up to a second story. As he mounted the first step, he looked behind him at Eurydice, who met his gaze with a simple nod of affirmation. With his free hand, Orpheus flipped the final light switch, submerging the bar into darkness. On the counter her candle remained, unlit and forgotten about for the evening. 


End file.
